healing
by alienoctopus
Summary: A short fanfic heavily based on the play Gruesome Playground Injuries. AU Fred W./OC. Rated M mostly for language.
1. Age Eight: Face Split Open

**I needed a break from my other stories, but I still wanted to write some fanfic.**

 **This is heavily based on the play Gruesome Playground Injuries by Rajiv Joseph. I worked on a production of it a couple of years ago, and this fanfic idea has been in my head ever since. I will not do the play any justice.**

 **Thank you for reading. I'll have the rest posted if not tonight, tomorrow night. Please favorite/review.**

 **-alienoctopus**

* * *

 **Age Eleven: Face Split Open**

Hazel sat in a bed towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. She wrung her hands, impatiently waiting for nothing. She could hear Madame Pomfrey shuffle around in her office if she listened hard enough, but aside from that, Hazel was alone. Once she properly tuned out the distance sounds, Madame Pomfrey left her office and the Hospital Wing in a hurry. Hazel didn't give it a second thought.

She sat up on the bed and kicked her legs beneath her. Her stomach stung her with each movement, but she could not help but move. Boredom was almost more painful than anything her body could do to her.

The sound of the Hospital Wing door opening jolted Hazel out of her boredom. She quickly returned to lying on the bed, feigning sleep, but facing the door so she could see who came in. All she could see was a small boy with bright red hair from the back while Madame Pomfrey fussed over his face.

"Drink this." She said, handing the boy a potion.

"What is it?" Hazel couldn't place the voice.

"A blood-replenishing potion. Drink it and then go lie down until I check up on you again. You should be fine in about an hour." Madame Pomfrey wrapped his face in a bandage, all the way around his head. She dismissed him by pointing to the bed next to Hazel and left for her office once again.

The boy sat on the bed Madame Pomfrey pointed at, facing Hazel. She examined his face through her fluttering, fake-closed eyes. He looked familiar—one of the Weasley twins, she concluded. He barely looked bothered by the bandage on his head, which was growing increasingly bloody by the moment. Hazel couldn't feign sleep any longer and sat up.

"What did you do to your face?" She asked, pressing and perhaps rather rudely.

"Fell on it." The boy said.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Hazel looked at his bandage with wide eyes.

"Not really." It was quiet for a moment.

"My stomach hurts." She said. The boy didn't give a response. "My stomach hurts a lot. Mum says it's because I have bad thoughts."

"Bad thoughts? Like about vampires?" The boy piped up.

"No." It was Hazel's turn to ignore him.

"Blood tastes funny." He said. "It's almost good."

"It doesn't!" She protested, sickened by the thought.

"Have you ever had your face cut open?" He asked.

"No."

"I get cuts all the time." He said proudly.

"Good for you."

"Sometimes, I get stomach aches. If I eat too many pasties."

"Why is there so much blood?" Hazel asked. She had yet to take her eyes off the bandage.

"Because I fell."

"How'd you fall?"

"Off a broom."

"But you're not supposed to fly outside of flying class."

"So?"

"So? You're not supposed to be flying."

"That's how I broke my face."

"You didn't break your face."

He didn't respond.

"Does it hurt?"

He paused. "One time, when I was younger, I was trying to trick my younger brother, but he scratched me and I was bleeding out of my eye."

"Did that hurt?"

"No. Eyelids are small so they don't hurt too bad. I have a scar on my eye now."

"Cool."

"Girls don't get scars."

"Yes we do."

"I was trying to fly out of the Gryffindor tower, but I got too close to the lake and fell off."

"That's stupid."

"I'm not stupid."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up."

"One time when I was little, I threw up because I had a stomach ache and I threw up so hard that there was blood in my eye."

"No. But it was red."

"I like having to take healing potions."

"Why?"

"They make your skin feel tight."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Can I see your cut?"

"Sure." The boy grinned. He unraveled the gauze that was wrapped around his head. "What happened to your eye?" He asked as he took off the bandage.

"My eye? Oh. I dunno, the blood just went back into my head."

The gauze fell to the floor. Hazel's eyes grew wider. "Whoa." She said.

"The air hurts it a little."

"Can I touch it?" She asked. The boy didn't even have to think before he answered.

"Sure."

She touched it. Coagulated blood squished beneath her finger. "Gross." She whispered.

"Your hands are cold."

Hazel took her hands off the boy and looked at his hands.

"At least mine are clean."

"Mine are dirty because I fell. They're full of rocks."

Hazel kneeled in front of him and started to pick the rocks out of his hands, dropping them on the ground next to the bandage. The boy couldn't take his eyes off her as she did so. "Thanks." He said. "Ow."

"Does it hurt?" She asked.

"A little."


	2. Age Eighteen: Eye Blown Out

**When I said this was based around the play Gruesome Playground Injuries, I mean it's pretty much that play, but in the Harry Potter universe.**

 **I hope it's working out like I think it is.**

 **Please review/follow/favorite!**

 **Thanks.**

 **-alienoctopus**

* * *

 **Age Eighteen: Eye Blown Out**

Fred lay in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. His body was numb. She could feel where pain should be—clearly the hole where his eye should be—but it didn't hurt him. It was ice cold. His head lolled to the side. The lack of feeling in his nerves made it difficult to keep his body in any one position. His tongue flicked in and out of the gap where he was missing a tooth.

He shifted around continuously in the bed, his black suit making a scratching noise as she moved. Despite how black his suit was, anyone could see splatters of blood soaked through them.

Finally, Fred felt a bit better, or at least, able to sit still and stare ahead, albeit with only one eye.

As soon as he has himself straight, Hazel stumbled into the room. She was in a black dress, the edge of which was covered in still-wet mud, as were her legs. She held black shoes in her hand. Her dirty blonde hair was frizzed and knotted. She looked just as dazed as Fred did.

They stared at each other.

"The fireworks were _awesome_." Fred said.

"Shut up, Fred. Just shut up. Whose great idea was it to leave you alone with explosives?"

"I didn't want to be alone."

"Shut up. It can't be my fault. Not tonight—the night I had to—"

"What are you even doing here?" Fred asked, trying to quell both his and Hazel's anger.

"Maxine O'Flaherty sent me a floo."

"From Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, she's a Healer here. She flooed me. Told me you kept saying my name and thought to call me. She said they thought you were trying to kill yourself."

"Who tries to kill themselves with a firework?"

"That's what I said. Actually, I said, have you ever met Fred? It's surprising this didn't happen sooner."

They shared a rare smile.

"So I told her, no, you're not trying to kill yourself and that you've just got shit for brains. I said you wouldn't even think to try and kill yourself because you wouldn't be able to show off the scar afterwards."

Fred wanted to laugh but couldn't bring himself to.

"So she said you got hurt, and now I'm here."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Freddie. I was asleep on the coffee table when I got the floo."

"Why?"

"I had some firewhisky when I got home."

"What about that guy. The one you live with? What about him?"

"He's asleep. He's been asleep. His name is Roger."

"His name is dickhead. Why do you have mud all over you?"

Hazel sighed and slumped down in the chair next to Fred's bed. "I tried to walk here."

"What?"

"I don't know. Maxine flooed me and I thought I should walk here."

"You tried to walk here?"

"Yeah."

"Were you drunk?"

"No, it's just—Roger only has the floo set to make and accept calls, not to actually go through and all I could think of was to walk. Then I remembered I could Apparate. That, and I've had a couple drinks."

"So you just walked."

"You know how I get."

"How you get?"

"Fuck you. How I get. When you get hurt." Hazel felt dejected. Unwanted. She wanted to shake Fred and tell him he still knows her—that she still knows him.

"Healer says the eye can regenerate, but it will take a while. Said I might lose a little vision, though."

Hazel moved the chair closer to Fred, but was now unable to look at him.

"It's gone for right now, though. But I don't think it as just the firework going into it. I think it was the burn. The poke didn't hurt. The burn went on forever."

"It's always that eye, isn't it?" Hazel lifted her head again, now observing Fred.

"Yeah."

"The cutting charm."

"Yep."

"And when Ron scratched you. Oh—and then seventh year, when you got some stinging potion splashed on you."

"And pink eye."

"I almost forgot." Hazel lied.

"I gave it to you. Pink eye." Fred started to smile. It felt hollow.

"No you didn't."

"I did. I think about it all the time." He paused, still remembering—a memory that felt so revisited that it might be worn. "I think about that all the time."

Hazel was noticeably more uncomfortable. "Well, you're a freak."

"I didn't want you to have to come here." Fred said solemnly.

"Sure."

"I didn't. Don't get me wrong—I'm happy you're here. But you've got the funeral tomorrow and, well, you should go home. Get some sleep."

"Shut up. I don't feel quite like Apparation yet. It's been a tough week. I come home from work to find out my dad was found dead and all this shit. And then there's you. Here's Freddie all of a sudden, after all this time, after half a year. I just feel like I haven't slept in five months.

Fred looked at Hazel, right in her eyes. If he were closer, he would be able to see his reflection in her eyes. He'd be able to see his bandaged head, beneath which would be an empty eye-socket. He bared his teeth, but couldn't see well enough to see the gap. He held up four fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up."

"Four."

He put down all his fingers but his middle one. "How about now?"

"Shut up."

"We both can't see."

"Probably for the best."

"I think I'm seeing two of you."

"I see two of you, too."

"Let's dance."

"Sod off."

"Really, the four of us should dance." He tried to get up, but he was still too numb all over. He sang a tune, eliciting a laugh from Hazel as he tried to dance from the hospital bed.

"Are you going to touch it?"

"What?" Hazel asked, immediately taken out of the good moment.

"My eye."

"You don't have an eye yet."

"Fine. Are you going to touch my eye socket?" He was still grinning.

"That's disgusting." She said. She looked around. "I probably can't smoke in here, can I?"

"Will you touch it?" Fred pestered on.

"Stop, Freddie. That's weird."

"You could always heal me."

"Great." Hazel took out a cigarette. "I'm just going to smoke anyway. What are they going to do? Tell me to put it out?"

"I know it's nothing, but I need you to touch it. You always do."

"I don't do anything."

"It's like you have extra magic for it. Like earlier. When we kissed. You kissed the missing tooth. The gap didn't hurt anymore."

"I'm not touching your eye socket." Hazel said with finality.

Fred ignored her and proceeded to take off his bandage.

"What are you doing?" Hazel asked, putting out the cigarette in a plant by the window.

"You're going to heal me. The numbness will go away soon. The eye growing back will hurt. But you're going to touch it and it will be ok."

"No. Stop it, Fred."

"I have to." He argued.

"I don't want to see it!" Hazel yelled at him.

"Please, Hazel. I need you to do this." The final bandage fell to Fred's chest. His eye was covered in a single, particularly bloody piece of gauze. "Please?" He begged.

"No! I'm not touching it. I don't even want to see—This can't be good for it!"

"You'll make me better."

"Just wrap it up again."

"Please. Touch it, just once."

"Absolutely not!" She yelled. "I'm not here to take care of you—I'm not a healer, Fred."

"I'm in pain, don't you—"

"—I don't care!"

"Then just fucking go!" Fred yelled He threw the used bandages at Hazel. She looked at him for a moment, shocked and sad. Both felt startled. Hazel Apparated.


	3. Age Sixteen: The Bin

**If you've been reading, you'll notice the name change.**

 **Please review/favorite/follow.**

 **-alienoctopus**

* * *

 **Age Sixteen: The Bin**

Hazel walked into the Hospital Wing slowly and saw herself to a bed. She laid down on a bed without even checking in with Madame Pomfrey. She pulled her legs to her chest.

She was dressed for the Yule Ball.

She coughed—hard and deep in her chest. Hazel keeled over the side of the bed and threw up into the rubbish bin.

"Just relax." Madame Pomfrey said, rushing into the wing when she heard the sounds. She handed Hazel a glass filled with water. "Rinse." She ordered.

"Thanks." Hazel muttered.

"You'll be ok? I have to replenish my staple potions." Madame Pomfrey asked.

Hazel nodded. She laid back down on the bed but with her feet still on the floor, as Madame Pomfrey returned to her office.

"Ow. Ow. Ow! Ow." Grunts came from the entrance of the wing. Hazel looked up to see Fred, who appeared as if he was in pain.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

"I was rockin' out." He said, sitting on the bed across from her.

"You were dancing?"

"Like a wild man." Fred laughed. "Except now I've hurt my ankle. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Hazel was sitting up now.

"I mean, what about the dance?"

"What about it?"

"You're missing it."

"I don't really care."

"You don't want to be there?"

"Not really."

"It's fun."

"Not really."

"Why don't you like it? I was having a good time."

"I just don't like it."

"Then why go?" Fred asked, pointing at her dress robes.

"Shut up."

"I heard you threw up blood."

"I did not. Who told you that?" Hazel asked defensively.

"Dunno. I just heard it from somewhere." Fred said nonchalantly.

"Well, I didn't throw up blood. I just threw up." She said, almost with pride.

"Can I get you some ginger ale?" He offered.

"No." She said. "Thank you."

"I can make myself throw up whenever I want."

"That's gross." Hazel refused to meet Fred's eyes.

"My brother George can, too. It actually inspired us to make—well, I can throw up whenever I want."

"Why would you even want to? It's awful."

"It's useful, really. If you're feeling a bit sick, it could make you feel better. Or like, one time, during a Quidditch game, Marcus Flint was being an arsehole, so I made myself throw up a little bit and spit it on him. I think it made him cry." Fred laughed.

"You're gross."

"And then I sent a great hit at Slytherin's seeker, and we got the snitch and won. It was brilliant."

"Quidditch sounds great." Hazel said sarcastically.

"That's how I hurt my ankle."

"I thought you hurt it dancing."

"No, last summer. We were playing Quidditch in my backyard and George sent a bludger my way. Hit my broom and I came tumbling down. Landed just fine, but on my foot."

"Why are you even talking to me?"

"Because that's why I hurt my ankle. I don't think it ever healed properly. You know how I hurt it?"

"You just told me—Quidditch."

"No, the actual first time. George and I had set off a bunch of dungbombs in the dungeon after hours. Filch chased us, but we almost made it back to the common room. Almost, if I hadn't fell into the trick stair. That was the first time I busted my ankle. It also made me fall on my chin and bust that open, too. My mum says I'm accident prone."

"If you tried running all that way, you're not accident prone. You're just stupid."

"I'm not stupid."

"Sorry." Hazel apologized flatly.

In the silence, the two could hear the music from the Yule Ball.

"You want to dance?" Fred asked, already moving to the beat.

"What?"

"Let's dance!" Fred got out of the bed and began to dance. He was awkward and limping.

Hazel laughed. "Yeah, sure. Ok." She made no effort to move.

"Really. I want to dance with you."

"I'm not going to dance with you."

Fred snorted and pulled Hazel out of bed. He tried to dance with her, but Hazel felt too awkward. She went back to the bed.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked. He had stopped dancing, too.

"Stupid."

"Why don't you like dancing?" He asked.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" Hazel tried to turn away, but she couldn't help but look back at Fred.

"Go back to the ball with me."

"I'm not going back."

"It's fun."

"It's not fun for me."

Fred looked at her intensely for a moment and then shrugged it off. He propped his foot up on his other leg, took off his shoes, and started to scratch at his foot.

"What are you doing?" Hazel raised her eyebrow at him.

"My foot itches." He said as if it wasn't a problem.

"That's disgusting."

"So? So is throwing up blood."

"I didn't!" She defended.

Fred continued to scratch his foot. Hazel watch for a moment, maybe a little bit interested, and then turned away.

"So, Hetta," Fred began with confidence, "Who do you like?"

Hazel looked back at him with anger. "What did you just call me?"

"Hetta." Fred said.

"My name is Hazel."

"Hazel. That's what I meant to say."

"You're an arse." She said.

"I am not."

"Shut up."

Fred laughed as he took off his other shoe to scratch that foot. "Who do you like?" He asked again.

"I don't know what you mean." Hazel pouted and crossed her arms at her chest.

"Which bloke do you like?"

"I hate everyone."

"Why."

"Because. Sod off."

Fred stopped scratching and was now examining his feet. He took off his socks.

"Oi, Hazel." He looked up at her.

"What?"

"Look!" He shouted. Hazel turned towards him only to have Fred's sock flung at her face.

"Nasty! So nasty!" She exclaimed, batting the sock away from her.

"It's my sock."

"I KNOW!" She shouted.

"It's rank."

"It's disgusting. You're disgusting. Just get away from me."

"Tell me who you like!" Fred said, threatening Hazel with his other sock.

"Stop."

"There's not one guy you like?"

"No. Leave me alone."

Fred picked his sock up off the floor and started to put his socks and shoes back on.

"You're so stupid." Hazel said, still irritated.

"I like Angelina Johnson." Fred said, ignoring her.

"That's nice."

"She's really pretty. She was my date to the dance. She kissed Lee Jordan."

"Yeah, and she also kissed Oliver Wood."

"She did?"

"Yes."

Fred needed a moment to think about this. "She didn't."

"I saw them kissing the library two years ago." Hazel said with authority.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Fred asked.

"You're so stupid." She said again.

I am not. Have you?"

"Shut up."

"I haven't kissed anyone."

"I don't care."

"I think I'm going to kiss Angelina Johnson tonight."

"That's great. Why don't you go back, then?"

"I'm going to."

Hazel laid down, allowing Fred to leave.

"I think kissing is going to be nice." Fred said wistfully.

"You're stupid." Hazel continued trying to ignore him.

Fred made a kissing face. "Mmm. Kiss. Kiss kissy kiss kiss." He taunted.

Hazel got out of bed. "I'm leaving." She announced. "You're annoying and stupid."

"I'm not stupid!" Fred said. "That's pretty rude of you, actually. Just because I'm funny and get hurt a lot doesn't mean I'm stupid. I'm just brave, that's all. I'm brave. Don't leave."

"I thought you wanted to go back?" Hazel said.

"I do, but not yet. I want to sit here for a bit."

Hazel groaned at herself and sat back down.

"I'm not always brave." Fred said slowly.

"I know."

Fred looked at Hazel. "Do you want to practice kissing?"

"WHAT?!" Hazel yelled. She shot back up at the proposition.

"Well, I've never kissed anyone, and I'm guessing you haven't either. And I'm a tad bit nervous about it, and since you haven't kissed anyone, I'm thinking you're probably nervous, too, so if we practice kissing, we'll have nothing to worry about when we have our first kiss."

"No thank you." Hazel said quickly.

"Oh, come on."

"No."

"Come on." He pleaded.

"I am NOT going to kiss you. Besides, if we did, we wouldn't have a first kiss," she emphasized, "because that would be our actual first kiss, and I don't want my first kiss to be with you." She paused. "I just threw up, anyway."

"It's not a first kiss. It's a practice kiss. I don't like you. I like Angelina."

"I just threw up."

"Did you wash out your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Then it's fine. Come on."

Hazel turned away from him.

"Come on, Hazel. Just one practice kiss, and then we can leave."

"I can't believe you're even saying this."

"Come on. Please."

"This is weird. We should just leave." But Hazel doesn't do what she said. She sat up and allowed Fred to stand in front of her. He leaned down to kiss her and hovered there for a moment. Hazel looked at him wide-eyed and nodded. They kissed. Fred stepped back after a moment. They started at each other.

Suddenly, Hazel covered her mouth and leaned over.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked, worried.

Hazel grabbed the rubbish pin at the side of the bed and threw up into it.

She was bothered by how much she threw up. When she finished, she just sat there holding the bin. Humiliation colored her face.

"Hazel, are you ok?"

"Just go!" She pleaded.

Fred examined her. She felt naked under his stare. Fred cocked his head back and started making a deep, gargling sound. He did this for a moment—it felt like forever. He grabbed the bin and threw up into it.

He threw up less than Hazel did. When he was done, he looked into the bin.

"Our puke is all mixed together." He said. He looked up at Hazel. "Want to see?

Hazel looked at him without disgust and then looked into the bin with him.

"Brilliant." He said.

"Yeah."


	4. Age Nineteen: Tuesday

**Age Nineteen: Tuesday**

Hazel walked heavily through St. Mungo's, unsure of what she was about to see. She finally came upon the room number that the front desk told her. She entered the hospital room. One step in and she can already see Fred, motionless.

"Goddammit." She said once she was fully in the room. She walked closer to Fred and looked at him for a long time.

"Hey, you." She muttered. She covered her face, fighting the urge to cry. She left the room, but came back in quickly.

"Ok." She continued to look at Fred, unnerved by his deep, smooth breathing. It seemed inhuman.

"So, I'm trying to recover. You know. From the war, and everything. Trying. Just so you don't worry about me." She paused, searching for words.

"Please, Fred. It's time to wake up now. It's me, it's Hazel. I'm here. I came to wake you up. I know it's been a long time and…" Hazel became uncomfortable. She felt as if she was talking to herself.

"Merlin, what the fuck did I come here for?"

She rummaged through her bag, but couldn't find what she was searching for. She overturned it on the floor and grabbed a small potion vial. She drank it quickly and put everything back in her bag. She sat in the chair next to the bed but didn't look at Fred.

"I'm so sick of your shit already." She sighed. "Who the fuck gets hit by a fucking wall?" She shouted. "I hate the be the one to say this, you stupid fucking genius, but getting involved in a war and not paying close attention to WALLS CRUMBLING AROUND YOU isn't the best fucking move." Hazel took a breath to calm herself. "I'm sorry."

She took out a bottle of lotion and put some on her hands. "I'm trying not to swear so much. And I'm using lotion. That's about it now." She looked at Fred's hands. "Congrats on almost getting married. I heard about it. Your mum told me, actually…" She trailed off. "Katie was always a nice girl. You probably made the right decision though. I mean, look at you. There's no way you were ready to settle down. You never cared too much about your own personal safety."

Hazel looked at her hand as if it was the first time she had ever seen them.

"I feel like a fucking arse, sitting here, talking to myself. I thought I'd walk in and say something and you'd come out of this shit. Because it's me. It's Hazel, Freddie! I'm here!" Hazel looked over Fred's body, looking for a new sign of life.

"Last time I saw you was in the same hospital." She said. "You had just blown your stupid eye. Which means I've seen you twice in ten years. That's pretty good for a couple of kids who are supposed to be best friends. Twice!"

She paused and looked around for something to drink.

"Well, I guess this is three times. Or does this even count? Does it count when one of us might be brain dead? You've always been brain dead, though, haven't you, Freddie?" She laughed. She looked at Fred, expecting him to laugh, too.

Hazel moved the chair closer to Fred. She took his hand. She looked at him—really looked at him. At his face, at his body, at his bandages. She held her hands above his body and waved them, as if she could raise the dead. She suddenly realized how idiotic she looked and stopped. She placed her hands on his chest and felt his lungs work and his heart beat. She lifted them off as if he had woken up. But it was nothing.

"I'm an idiot." She took his hand in hers again. "Your hand is all dry."

Hazel sat back in the chair and rummaged through her bag again. She took out the hand lotion and squeezed some in her hand. She started to rub the lotion into Fred's hand.

"Please don't marry Katie when you get out of this, Fred. You can't. Because what about me? What about me, huh? When my dad—when you came to the funeral home that night… The things you said to me," She paused, trying to find her breath, "You're always doing that, you know? The top ten best things anyone's ever done for me have all been done by you. That's pretty good right?"

The two friends were swallowed by the silence of the hospital room. Hazel looked at the door. She was expecting someone to come in at any moment.

"I know. I know, I'm so stupid. I'm—I'm fucked up, you know that. So I need you to get through this, Freddie. I need you to look for me again. And I'm sorry about that, but you have to wake up now. I need you to come looking for me again. You have to wake up for me. Because I'm not great. I'm not great, you know? And I need you right now. I need you to come over and show me some stupid shit and make me laugh again. Like always. I'm sorry I've been gone, and I haven't come to see you, but I'm here. I'm back. So wake up. Rise and shine, Freddie." Hazel wiped her eyes but she wasn't crying. "It's Tuesday. That was always your favorite day."


	5. Age Seventeen: Pink Eye

**I hope this scene reads well. It's my favorite in the play.**

 **I also hope someone out there is enjoying this as much as I am. Look at it as a guilty pleasure.**

 **Please review/favorite/follow!**

 **thanks for reading.**

 **-alienoctopus**

* * *

 **Age Seventeen: Pink Eye**

Hazel attempted to curl up in a hidden corridor in the library. Fred had shown it to her years before, and it became the perfect spot to hide from everyone. Over the years of using the corridor, the two had snuck in a bench from the library. Since then, Hazel had started to notice other things pop up—cauldrons, desks, pillows. She assumed Fred will had taken his twin here, too. At first, she felt as if it violated the place—it was their hidden passageway—but then knew it was out of convenience. She would do the same.

Hazel sat on the bench, which now wiggled at any movement, and hugged her knees to her chest. Before she could realize it, Fred came in. He looked beaten up and was still in most of his Quidditch uniform. He dropped down on the floor in front of the bench and yelled in pain.

"What are you doing?" Hazel asked, a little bit bothered to have her solitude ruined.

"I had to stop by." He said through gritted teeth.

"What happened?"

"Draco Malfoy happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I got in a fight with him."

"You got in a fight with DRACO MALFOY?"

"Yeah, and this first year was passing out cockroach clusters and she gave me pink eye." He threw a bag of candy at Hazel. "Here. I took them from her."

Hazel looked at the candy, dumbfounded. "These are cockroach clusters."

"Damn right."

"You should have tried to see if she has sugar quills."

"Fuck that."

"Fuck you."

"What's your problem, anyway?" Fred asked, knowing what Hazel's defenses were.

"Go to your dormitory. I'm sick. You're irritating. I wish you had brought sugar quills."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Shut up or I'll give you pink eye."

"Go away."

Fred stood up and started to rub his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

"Give… pink eye…uurrrghhhh." He said as he held his hands in front him like a zombie.

"Gross! Stop it!" Fred started to crawl on the bench and over Hazel, but she fights him off. "Get off me, you lech!" She yelled.

"Pink eye!"

Hazel turned serious. "Get off! Merlin."

Fred scrambled up, but still sat on the bench. "What? What's going on with you?"

Hazel was exasperated at this point. "You're a fucking lech. Every bloke in the world! You all act like you're only playing around, 'cept then you have to crawl all over me. You think I don't know you have a total hard-on right now, you lech?"

"I do not!" Fred said defensively.

"You do!"

"I'm wearing a cup." Fred knocked lightly on his crotch. Hazel could hear the faint tap of plastic beneath his knuckles. "It's a protective cup for Quidditch."

"Just leave me alone."

"Fine." Fred opened the bag of cockroach clusters and took a bit. "Ho bag." He said in an attempt to make Hazel smile.

"Shut up."

"I bet you'll enjoy that pink eye. It's the most contagious thing in the world."

"I don't care."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm tired. What happened with Malfoy?"

"First, I punched him in the face."

Hazel was aghast. "Why? It's Draco Malfoy. Do you have any idea what he could do to you? What his cronies could do to you? You don't go punching him in the face."

"Crabbe threw me down and kicked me and wailed all over. But I didn't care because I busted Malfoy's nose. Fucking prick. How come you weren't at the match today? Are you sick again?"

"I'm always sick." She stuck up her nose.

"You don't look sick."

"I'm not. Not right now."

"You do look off, though. And you're rude and everything."

Hazel sighed. "Probably 'cos I had sex today."

Fred choked on his cockroach cluster. "What?" He asked. He tried his best not to show his anger.

"With Jeremy."

"You had… Today? When? How? What are you talking about?" Fred failed at concealing his feelings.

"He's my boyfriend."

"So? I know!"

"So we have sex!" Hazel said. But Fred knew better. He knew she needed to justify it somehow. He just didn't anticipate feeling this way.

"Wait, so you mean you've been having sex? How long?"

"Like two weeks. We did it two weeks ago."

"How come you didn't tell me?"

Hazel shot Fred a look. "I'm telling you now!"

"Well what the fuck!"

"What?" She yelled. Her voice echoed through the empty passageway.

"I don't want you having sex with JEREMY." Fred said with finality.

"He's my boyfriend!"

"You're too young."

"Just because you've never had sex." She muttered.

"I told you. I did have sex."

"With your cousin."

"Not actual cousin, just distant cousins—pureblood families branch far. Shut up. I can't believe you had sex with Jeremy. That guy is nasty." Fred spat out Jeremy's name like it was made of acid.

"It's not like we've been at it non-stop. We've only had sex twice."

"Twice?"

"Once two weeks ago. And then again today." She said as if it didn't matter.

"Today? Where?" He looked at Hazel. "Here? On our bench? Ew, I was just on a bench that you screwed Jeremy Stretton in? That guy is sleaze central."

"Just forget about it then." Hazel said, looking down.

"I can't just forget about it!"

"It wasn't…" She started, but couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"What?" Fred knew there was more.

"Nothing."

"What?" He pressed.

"Nothing. I just." She took a breath. "It's over anyway. I mean. I did it. Twice. I got that over with."

"Sounds like it was really fun." Fred said darkly.

"It wasn't, all right?" Hazel softened her voice. "It wasn't fun. It was just, you know. You have to pretend you're not even doing anything, as if you're only playing around, like you just were. Jeremy's over here, and we have to pretend we're being normal, you know, and the suddenly we're not, suddenly he's like… you know…"

"He's like what?" Fred looked at Hazel violently.

"Nothing."

"You didn't want to?"

"I mean… not at that exact moment…"

Fred stood up and stared at her.

"Hazel…" He said, quiet heat on his breath.

"Don't get all crazy," she demanded. "You're always so dramatic."

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Fred said after a beat.

"No you're not."

Fred started pacing in front of Hazel.

"I'm going to kick him in his ugly skull, that dirty piece of shit."

"You're not going to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not, all right? Just forget about it." She sighed.

Fred started to lose it. "I'm talking about you, Hazel! I'm talking about you and no one can just come around and… I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him." He continued.

"Will you shut up, please? Just sit here."

"No, I'm not going to sit down!" He shouted.

"He's my boyfriend." She argued.

"No, he's not. Not anymore. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much." Fred buried his face in his hands.

"Fred." Hazel said, trying for his attention. "Fred, come on. Are you crying?

"No." He said as he cried into his hands.

Hazel laid back into the bench. She pulled Fred by the shirt so that he was closer to her. He rested his head on her shoulder with his face still in his hands. Hazel hugged him.

Fred put his hands down. "Why's everyone got to me so awful? Malfoy… Jeremy… they don't—they're all such." Fred paused. "He called you a slag. Malfoy did. We were all already fighting, but he yelled it to me. They were all laughing and started saying this stuff." He sighed. "People think they can say things like that about you, but then they get punched in the face and they always will, Hazel, they will always get punched in the face. By me." He looked at her. "You're not a slag. You're not."

They sat for a moment. Hazel ran her hand through Fred's hair absentmindedly. He looked at her other hand and then her leg. He stoked her leg tenderly. "You've got blood on your skirt." He noticed.

"It's not blood." She said.

"Yeah it is. It is." He sat up and looked at her. "When did you start that again?"

"I didn't start anything." She said indignantly. Fred looked at her knowingly. She looked away. "I thought having sex would, you know. I thought it might make me stop." She whispered.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

"A little."

"What could make you stop?" Fred wasn't looking at her anymore.

"I don't know. Nothing."

Fred stood up and walked away from her. Hazel watched his every move as she pulled the hem of her skirt up. "Look." She said.

Fred turned around and looked back at her. He looked at her legs. He could see the small cuts on them. He walked back to her and kneeled. He touched the cuts with his thumb.

"You think I could give your legs pink eye?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah. Maybe." Fred examined her legs as if he were a healer. "What do you use."

"Just a simple spell. Like chopping up carrots."

"If it hurts, why do you do it?" He was still studying her legs.

"I don't know." She said. They looked at each other. "Don't tell me to stop."

Fred stood up and pulled down his Quidditch trousers. He looked at Hazel, pleading.

"I'm not going to cut you." She said.

"I won't tell you to stop if you do." He said firmly.

"Why?"

"Just do it. Just like how you do it." He stood closer to her.

Hazel put the tip of her wand at Fred's thigh but doesn't cut him.

"I can't."

"Do it."

"Freddie, why?"

"Just do it. I want to see what it's like, okay?"

She sat back, away from him. "It's different. I can't do it to someone else."

"I'm not someone else. I'm you." He said strongly. Hazel looked at him. She put the wand back to his though and muttered something. She cut him. He breathed in sharply.

"I'm sorry." She said.

Fred touched the cut. He kneeled back down in front of Hazel. He put his hands on her thighs, understanding more how it felt. She put her hands on top of his hands. They look at each other, deep and in the eyes. Studying each other's face for what felt like hours and seconds at the same time.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." He said quietly.

"I know."


	6. Age Twenty-Four: A Blue Raspberry Dip

**I've said before- this is mostly from the play Gruesome Playground Injuries by Rajiv Joseph. I am not this brilliant. I've only moved around some ages and places to make it fit for a good Fred/OC fic.**

 **Anyway, please review/favorite/follow!**

 **thanks for reading.**

 **-alienoctopus**

* * *

 **Age Twenty-Four: A Blue Raspberry Dip**

Fred entered the mental ward of St. Mungo's with great trepidation. He wanted to be there, he had to be there, but was increasingly nervous about what he was going to see. He looked down at his feet, his legs. He looked at the cane he was now reliant on. He looked up and sees Hazel, sitting in a chair across the facility lounge. He saw her before she noticed him. He limped to her.

"Hazel." He said. She didn't seem to hear him. She was dazed, staring into space. "Hazel." He said louder. She turned to see him.

"I thought you were dead." She said after barely enough time to process that he was there.

"I wasn't." Fred said.

"You woke up." She whispered.

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Five years ago."

"Five years?"

"Yeah."

Hazel fought the urge to yell at him. "You really woke up five years ago? Where have you been?"

"I don't know."

Hazel frowned. "What's with the cane?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, what happened?"

Fred shrugged.

"Did you ever marry that girl?"

"Katie?"

"Katie."

"You heard about that?"

"Yeah."

Fred gulped. "No."

"I thought you were dead."

"Did you visit me?" Fred asked. He needed to know.

"They've got me on about twenty-five different potions or something. Like a swirl of ice cream in me. You know how they dip the ice cream and it gets a hardened shell?"

"Like at Fortescue's."

"I'm a blue raspberry dip."

"Delicious." Fred whispered tenderly.

"Yeah." Hazel straightened up in the seat. "This place isn't so bad. 'Cept for the food, and you can't smoke." She tried to smile. "I had a bad patch, Freddie."

"What did you do?" Fred asked.

"I hurt myself."

"How?" This was news to Fred. He knew where Hazel was, and couldn't say he wasn't surprised. But he didn't know why she was there.

"I don't remember doing it." The words came out of Hazel's mouth without her ever moving her lips.

"Doing what?"

"My stomach. You know, it always hurt. And my mum, and all that. And it got worse, and I just tried to take it out." She breathed.

"What do you mean?" Fred asked, but he already knew the answer. He didn't even want to hear it.

"I was out of my head. I tried to cut my stomach out."

Fred flinched. "It's not healthy. That sort of thing." He said.

"It was ok. I wasn't very good with the wandwork."

Fred shook his head. "Hazel, you visited me, didn't you? In the hospital? Because I swear to Merlin I heard your voice out there. Or your presence, or something. Your echo. I don't know how, but I remember you. Something about you coming to me, and sinking into me, and giving me breath again. You came and healed me."

"What does it matter?" Hazel said, trying to shift the conversation a bit.

"What do you mean what does it matter? You raised me from the dead."

"No, I did not. I'm not your fucking healer, Fred. For Merlin's sake, look at me, ok? I didn't come and see you." She shouted.

"No. No, no you can't lie to me. I c an see it all over your face. You were there."

"I wasn't fucking there." She raged.

Fred got angry. She slammed his cane. "Well, why not?"

"Because why would I, Fred? What about when I needed somebody? Where were you for the last five years?"

"My life got away from me." He said, the anger leaving him.

"Poor you."

"Every bit of it. I probably have ten thousand excuses, but I," He paused, "Hazel, I'm sorry. Something happened to me and I had to find you."

"What happened?" She asked.

"I was helping repair Hogwarts—it's still messed up from the battle. But it's getting better. And I was in the library and our corridor was collapsed in. It was terrible. So I started to try and clear it up, maybe see if it was salvageable. I crawl in there, doing what I can, when all of a sudden, I trip. A huge piece of wood went through my foot. That's why I have the cane. I started screaming, unable to move because of the wood, and I can't find my wand. And all I could think was _where the fuck is Hazel_? Then all of a sudden, it was clear. That's my life up there. That's my life without you."

Hazel looked away quickly. "Does it hurt?" She asked.

"A little."

He finally sits down next to her, slumped in the seat. They sat like this for a long while.

"Do you want to touch my scar?" Hazel asked.

Fred didn't answer. He only looked at her for a moment. Hazel got up and went to him. She pulled her shirt out so Fred could put his hand up it. He did, and touched his stomach.

"Merlin, Hazel." He whispered, almost in awe.

"That's my scar, Freddie. It's like a roller coaster across my stomach. You're not the only idiot on the planet." Hazel ran her fingers though his hair gently. Fred stood up, removing his hand from under her shirt, and held her face in his hands.

"I wish I could do to you what you do to me."

Hazel tried to look anywhere but at Fred but absolutely couldn't.

"I wish you'd let me." He said somberly. "You think we could get out of here? You think we could just pry ourselves out of everything? Go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else."

"Anywhere."

"I can't." Hazel said.

"Not even right this minute. Sometime. Soon. I could come get you and-"

"—I can't. I can't." She stepped away from him. She looked away and sat down again. Fred stared at her.

"Are you going to let me drift away here? Because I don't want to, Hazel. I'm beat. I don't have so much left in me anymore, you know? I'm telling you, don't let me. Don't let me leave again. I might not make it back."


	7. Age Nineteen: Tooth and Nail

**Age Nineteen: Tooth and Nail**

* * *

Hazel sat in front of a muggle funeral home, smoking her third cigarette since she stepped outside. She flattened her black dress against her legs and exhaled. She didn't notice that Fred had been standing in front of her for the last two minutes, in a dark but poorly fitted suit. He flicked his tongue through his missing front tooth, watching his friend smoke. Finally, he coughed and Hazel looked up at him.

"Hey again." Fred smiled.

"What happened to your tooth?" Hazel asked, not bothering to get up.

"Er, knocked it out this morning. Just messing around with George. I figured I'll take care of it tomorrow. Hi, Hazel."

"Hey again." She said. Her voice wasn't cold, but it was emotionless.

"I'm sorry." He said, sitting down next to her.

"For what?" She asked, rubbing the cigarette out in the cement.

"For your dad."

"Oh, you're sorry for him."

"About him."

"You missed the wake," Hazel said, dropping the subject yet still going on with it, "Everyone went home. Noting in there but a dead man in a box."

"I got lost."

"How?"

"Not used to going off in the muggle world, I guess." He shifted. "it's good to see you."

"Sod off. Toothless piece of shit."

They smiled at each other. "It's so good to see you." He said, going in for a hug.

"No. Don't hug me. I'm hugged out. Everyone's been hugging me all day. Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss. What loss? If one more person hugs me, I'll choke on my own spit."

Fred backed off. "It's been forever, Hazel."

"I've been here. I've been around. Where the fuck have you been?"

"Working."

"Working." She imitated.

"I came around a few times, when I knew you went here. I tried to find you. I tried to look you up but I couldn't find you."

"I was here." Hazel said simply.

"Where? Not listed anywhere I could find."

"I work. I work and I sleep. What do you do?"

"I work," he defended, "I work, and when I'm not working, I'm looking. Whenever I'm free, I'm looking for you."

"You didn't look hard enough."

Fred shook himself—his whole body—like he was waking up abruptly from a dream he was falling in.

"Merlin, Hazel, you're here now I found you." He sat next to her, his body relieved, and he hugged her. Hazel was visibly annoyed.

"Can you stop? You're a freak."

"I missed you. I _missed_ you, Hazel."

She shook her head.

"What have you been doing since Hogwarts?"

"No. Don't ask. I don't want to talk about what I've been doing."

"Fine." Fred looked ahead, but unable to drop the subject he continued on. "Your dad told me you were waitressing."

Hazel looked at Fred, a bit confused. She had not expected him to know anything.

"I told you, I came looking for you."

"You talked to my dad?"

"I came by your place?"

"When?"

"When you stopped sending owls. I stopped to see if you were here. I talked to your dad. He told me you were waitressing but he didn't tell me where."

"You _talked_ to my dad?" Hazel felt like she was falling in a black hole.

"You think I enjoyed it? I hated being in the same room as him."

Hazel looked at him, open-mouthed. "He never told me you stopped by."

"Great bloody surprise, there." He said bitterly.

"He's such an asshole." She took a breath. "I'm alone now, Freddie."

"You're not alone."

"I am. My mum died a few months ago."

"What? She died? How?"

"I don't know. Her stomach."

"Merlin, Hazel. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know, you're sorry for my loss. I hadn't even seen her in eleven years. Her ex-boyfriend called us to give the news. You know what my dad said when I told him?"

"What?" Fred asked. He swung his arm around the bench.

"He started crying and told me she was a better woman than I'd ever be. This bitch who walked out on us." She lit another cigarette.

"You're not alone, Hazel."

"I'm going to burn you with cigarette."

Fred grinned at her, a familiar, funny grin.

"You need to fix that tooth. You look awful." She looked at him again. "Did it hurt?"

"It hurt like crazy." He gave her that grin again.

"It's good to see you, too." She said, finally.

"I'm back now."

"What do you mean?"

"it means that I've found you and I'm back."

"That's good, I guess."

"You know, whenever anything crazy happened in the shop or I saw something amazing or beautiful or fucked up, I'd think, Merlin, Hazel'd love this shit. Sometimes I'd just imagine you were there, you know, I'd imagine you were there and I'd start having a conversation with you. Just start talking to you."

"There's a word for that an it's schizophrenia."

"I just want to be friends again."

"You're the one who left." Hazel said, evoking the months at Hogwarts that Fred had left with his twin, the summer months they had after that, the year he was gone.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you ok?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Come here."

"No."

"Hazel, come here."

"Fuck off."

Fred tried to hug her, but Hazel resisted. Finally, he took her face in his hands and she gave up.

"Look at me."

"What, Fred." She nearly shouted. They stared at each other. He kissed her. She let him, but didn't kiss him back.

"I love you." Fred said. Hazel pulled away from him.

"This is so fucked up what you're doing right now." She said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Kissing me. Finding me like this. Telling me you love me. Just leave me alone."

"Hazel—"

"—You're so stupid. You always think everything is one way, but you don't know anything."

"What?! What don't I know?"

"You don't know _me_ , all right? You think I'm someone, some girl you dreamt up a million years ago."

"Then who are you?"

"Nothing. Just shut up."

"No, who are you? Since I don't know anything, who are you?"

"Shut up." Hazel tried to walk away. Fred followed and tried to kiss her again, but she stepped away and didn't let him. "Don't." She warned.

"I've brought some fireworks."

"You're an idiot."

"I do. I've got a whole mess of them. Killer, too. Just made."

"We're not going to light off fireworks."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, Freddie? Maybe because we're not in fifth year anymore? Or because you're an idiot and we're in a muggle neighborhood? Or because I have to wake up tomorrow for my father's funeral?"

"We can go back to Hogwarts," he said as he took out his wand, "Just like old times."

"I'm living with someone. We've been together for a year."

"Where is he? He's not with you?" Fred asked suddenly.

"He doesn't like funeral."

"He doesn't like funerals? This isn't a funeral. This is a wake."

"He said he doesn't like seeing dead bodies. Just shut up."

"And you're with this guy?!"

"Don't judge him. He's sensitive." She argued.

"Fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him."

"That's nice."

Fred paced around. He started to leave, but turned back.

"You know what, Hazel? Merlin, you know, I came to your house last year and your dad was there, and I know he probably hates my guts, and he said, she is where she is. I don't know where the girl is. He said he didn't care and didn't care to know. And I was about to leave, but I didn't. I didn't and I said to that arsehole," Fred almost melodramatically turned to face the funeral home, "You remember, arsehole? You dead piece of shit? You remember what I said to you?! I said to him, you are fucking worthless. You have a daughter and she is a gift. She is the most perfect being to ever walk this earth and you don't even know it. And she loves you because you're her stupid father. But you've never loved her back, you've just damaged her and fucked her up and never even bothered to notice she's this angel. So fuck you, cocksucker." He shouted. He turned back to Hazel. "And then I told him I hoped he'd die alone. Which he did. So I feel a bit guilty about that now." He took a long breath. "I can take care of you, Hazel." He walked back to her. Hazel didn't dare look at him, but she was moved by his words. He reached out a touched her face. She flinched and recoiled from his touch. She stepped away from him.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me." She said.

Fred turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to light up my fireworks."

"Bye. Don't blow your face off." She said as he Apparated away.


End file.
